#34. Conscience
“Her body tends to heat up often, and even when the fever breaks, a mild one lingers. It’s from exhaustion, so once she recovers her strength, she should gradually increase her walking time. I’ll prepare some nourishing medicine for her — not just fever reducers — and send it up soon. Make sure she takes it regularly with her meals.”
After examining Ninia, Krov finally gave his diagnosis. He’d checked the Grand Duchess several times already, yet her pulse was always thin and weak.
She was just born frail, he thought. Walks and health foods won’t do much, but I suppose it’s better than nothing.
As a doctor, Krov had occasionally encountered people who were simply born weak, without any specific illness.
His professional opinion hadn’t changed — this woman wouldn’t survive long in such a cold land — but there was no reason to say that to her face.
“I understand,” she said softly.
Once again, she accepted his words without complaint. Krov found that about her… uncomfortable.
If she would just snap — curse him or rage about that “devil’s seed” nonsense — he could snort and walk away. But she never did. Her calm, gentle tone always made him feel uneasy.
He began packing up his bag, eager to leave before she could speak again. But then her voice stopped him.
“Excuse me, Doctor.”
“Yes?” he replied, startled. It was the first time she’d addressed him directly. Usually, she just thanked him or said polite farewells.
“I have a question,” she said.
“…Please, go ahead.”
His hands froze over his instruments. Krov couldn’t guess what she was about to say — and that worried him.
Of course, what could such a mild woman possibly say that would trouble him? Still, after a life spent dodging laws and surviving chaos, he’d learned that even harmless people sometimes said things that pierced deep.
“Is it possible for a woman to become a doctor?”
That was not the question he’d expected.
After a brief pause, he answered honestly.
“Well, in the Piéchen Empire, there are almost none. But in Gilphurs — where medicine is a legal profession — there are many female doctors. It makes sense, I suppose; women would feel more comfortable being treated by another woman.”
Especially noble ladies. In Gilphurs, there were even female doctors who treated only women, and the empire’s medical system had become quite organized.
If war hadn’t broken out, Krov might have illegally crossed the border and settled there himself. He still regretted being trapped in this cursed fortress.
“I see…” Ninia murmured, sounding genuinely intrigued.
Krov itched to ask why she wanted to know, but decided against it. He wasn’t about to get tangled up with her curiosity.
Ugh, maybe it was that lunch. Why does my chest feel so tight?
He pressed his hand to his sternum, as if trying to ease the discomfort. Whatever it was, it felt heavy — maybe he’d need a digestive later.
“I didn’t know that. Thank you for telling me. Are you leaving now?”
Krov hesitated. He’d been halfway to the door, but her gentle voice stopped him again. He could’ve just said Yes, I am, and gone. Instead, after a moment of internal wrestling, he asked,
“Are you… interested in learning medicine yourself?”
“Hmm, I’m not sure,” she said with a faint, troubled smile.
Krov stared at her, his thoughts deepening.
He knew too well that a person who’d lived by one belief couldn’t easily accept a system that completely defied it. That’s what made this woman strange — she’d lived as a saintess, yet now showed curiosity about things forbidden by the goddess’s law.
This is bad… really bad, he thought.
He tried to silence the part of himself that wanted to say more. But his conscience — long dormant — spoke up anyway.
Serves you right, he thought bitterly. This is payback for treating the poor woman so coldly in the beginning.
In truth, she was a victim — used by the temple like everyone else. He’d known that, yet he and the others had still treated her harshly.
It hit him then — that prickling discomfort in his chest wasn’t indigestion. It was guilt. His conscience.
“Your Grace,” he said carefully. “I don’t know much, but… blind devotion is never good. No matter what it’s toward. What I mean is— people need to have a will of their own. Something they like or dislike — not because others or gods told them to, but because they want it.”
Ah, damn his tongue. He should’ve just packed up and left. Why was he spouting nonsense now?
Even as he spoke, regret surged in him. Ninia’s wide eyes grew rounder in surprise.
“Ah— forgive me,” he stammered. “I don’t even know what I’m saying.”
The spilled words couldn’t be taken back. Krov slapped his own mouth lightly in embarrassment — which made Ninia laugh.
“No, it’s all right. It helped,” she said.
Her smile was gentle, like spring sunlight.
Looking at her, Krov realized he could no longer deny it — he did care about her.
“And what exactly helped?”
A cold, irritated voice sliced between them.
Krov stiffened. He didn’t need to look up to know who it was.
“Your Grace,” he murmured, bowing quickly to hide his face.
Talahan’s eyes, sharp as blades, flicked from Ninia to Krov. Even though the doctor stared at the floor, he could feel the weight of that gaze burning into the thinning hair on his scalp.
“You can leave now,” Talahán said flatly.
“Yes, thank you,” Krov replied, clutching his bag and darting out like a startled rabbit.
Conscience or not — survival came first.
Damn bastard, he cursed inwardly, heart pounding. One wrong word and he’ll have my head.
When Ninia had first fallen ill, Krov had to report her condition directly to the Grand Duke. That had not been a pleasant experience.
I told him she’s just weak by nature. What, does he think I’m some kind of quack?
He might’ve been an unlicensed doctor, but he still had his pride.
Does he expect me to magically cure her fever? What am I, a priest?
Even now, just remembering it made him seethe.
Anyway, he thought, being around that man too long can only end badly.
He earned his pay, enjoyed protection, yes — but that didn’t mean he wasn’t afraid.
His hurried footsteps faded down the hall, and the bedroom fell quiet again.
Before Talahán’s gaze even reached her, Ninia lowered her eyes. Her brief conversation with Krov had left her faintly lighthearted, but that mood vanished the instant her husband returned.
The silence — heavy and cold — pressed on her again.
It had only been a few days of illness, yet facing him while fully conscious felt like it had been forever.
Since she’d fallen asleep in his bed that night, she’d drifted in and out of feverish dreams, half-aware at best.
Even in her hazy memories, Talahán’s presence lingered. She remembered snatches of conversation — though it felt like hearing a dream with the sound missing.
She felt guilty for taking over his bed, even though she hadn’t been well enough to move to her own quarters. There was a debt of discomfort there — psychological, if nothing else.
With her head bowed, she absently touched the blanket that still held his scent.
I really should’ve gone back that night, she thought, regret washing over her. But it was too late.
Talahán stood silently, watching her.
Even his gaze carried weight.
Unable to endure the silence any longer, she finally whispered,
“…You’re back?”
No answer.
She gathered her courage and looked up — but her eyes stopped around his thigh, unable to meet his face.
Then a large hand tilted her chin upward.
“You certainly take your time speaking,” he said coolly. “If I waited for you to start, night would fall before you said a word.”
Her vision tilted upward in an instant. Their eyes met — and once caught, she couldn’t look away.
His hand turned her face this way and that, as though inspecting a flawed object in his grasp.
